“You cannot be only twenty-six years old!” he exclaimed from behind her. “You’re practically mortal.”
Oops. Caught with her hand in the pervert’s cookie jar. Cheeks burning, she withdrew and pivoted to face Halo.
He held a file in his big, masculine hands, staring at her with something akin to horror. To her relief, he made no mention of her peeping as she closed the drawer with a bump of her hip.
“Your father is a nymph.” His extraordinary eyes pinned her. “A species known for playfulness and insatiably high sex drives. Rumors suggest a nymph’s climax causes days of euphoria for a lover.”
She smiled with saccharine sweetness. “It’s weeks of euphoria, thank you.” And from her experience, it was an absolute lie.
“Your kind produces a pheromone known to lure unsuspecting prey into your clutches.”
Had his voice roughened at the end? Did he blame Ophelia for his attraction to her? And he was attracted to her. Her nymph side suddenly pinged with the knowledge.
“My clutches?” Voice dipping low, she said, “I assure you, I’m not luring anyone with a pheromone. You want me all on your own, big boy. And for the record, I’m one hundred percent, grade A harpy.” The same was true for all harpykind. Though, yes, they exhibited different abilities that were dependent on their father. “So? What else you got?”
“You currently have no known consort.”
“Again, so? Lots of harpies have no known consort.” The equivalent of a nymph’s entwine and the only calm to her storm. “For all you know, no one’s been good enough for me.”
“Every teacher, trainer, and superior has bemoaned your stubbornness.”
“I’m passionate about my belief that I’m right.” Needing to do something with her hands, she picked up a knickknack. A small crystal vase filled with rings. Ohhh. Diamonds. And sapphires. And rubies. And emeralds. And pearls. Mine, all mine!
No. Wrong. Harpies enjoyed pretty things, yes. And they enjoyed stealing pretty things even more. But they did not steal behind another harpy’s back. Only her front.
Ophelia set the vase aside, then lifted a trinket box brimming with teeth. A safer option to study. Except, she kind of wanted to swipe these even more. Back the trinket box went.
Halo continued to scan the pages of her file. Every so often, he tensed.
Did he really have to be so gorgeous? Look at him. All that thick, shiny dark hair probably felt like silk. And that huge, muscly body, with its broad, capable shoulders might feel incredible on top of hers.
What are you doing? “So, um, what’s your father?” she asked. Fair was fair. If he opened a subject, she had a right to sail through its door.
“He was a god of war, and I killed him.” He offered the information easily, as if the detail carried no significance to him. He flipped his gaze to hers. “Designation—the Flunk Out. Nicknames—Phel, Fifi, Lady Orgasm, Lady O, Lady O No, Lady No O, Lady Go O, Lady No Go O, the Big O, the Big O No, the O Spot, the O No Spot, Hurricane O.”
So harpies liked to drag each other. So what? “You forgot Mistress O, Mistress No O, and Mistress O No.”
He continued reading. “You have zero kills.”
“Your mom has zero kills!” The nerve of this male, throwing her biggest flaws in her face this way. She had done nothing to him—but that could change on a dime. “If you want your mind blown, check out my maiming and pillaging stats. Yeah. That’s right. They’re off the charts.”
“Known to be volatile, with a hair-trigger temper. As proven by a hundred and eighteen write-ups for quote, unquote episodes, ninety-eight citations for uncontrollable rage, and two thousand and twelve recommendations for promotion.” Again, his gaze flipped up. “What constitutes an episode?”
“Your face! But, um, did you say two thousand and twelve?” No big deal, but a couple thousand harpies had pulled their recs for some reason. Whatever. Onward and upward. She hiked a shoulder, as if she hadn’t a care. “Maybe I should study another alevala. You shouldn’t get to learn my life story while I’m forced to cobble together fragments of information about yours.”
“Your mother isn’t listed,” he said, disregarding everything she’d said. “Why?”
“To maintain my privacy. Why else?” And to hide her connection to Nissa from outsiders. “You should try it sometime. Five stars. Highly recommend.”
He closed the folder with a snap. “What did you flunk?”
“Tolerating irritating males.” Patience at an end, she lunged, attempting to snatch the file from his grip. The paperwork vanished.
Before she could backtrack, Halo snaked an arm around her waist and dragged her closer. Her breath hitched. The desire to wrench free...did not spark. The multicolored striations in his irises spun, luring her closer.
The air thickened with sandalwood and smoked cherries. Her inhalations quickened, but so did his.
“You will cease using your pheromone on me, Ophelia.” His modulated tone persisted, but his intensity jacked up another thousand degrees. A warning of incoming danger; she knew it.